


Eden

by Overlimits



Category: Invitation to the Game - Monica Hughes
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 09:23:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2807519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Overlimits/pseuds/Overlimits





	Eden

**Author's Note:**

  * For [merriman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/merriman/gifts).



'Enjoy your leisure years! Use them creatively.'

Those damning words, staring him right in the face. Philip was standing in the throng of his fellow students, unaware of the clamor, the mingled sounds of exultation and despair-- he was focused entirely on the page clutched in his hand, staring as though he could will the words to change before his eyes.

He'd known that his chances hadn't been good (no one's were ever _good_ , even from this small private school that boasted the 'exemplary' employment record of 32%), but there had been a tiny spark of hope. His parents were politicians, he'd thought-- maybe, with his above-average marks, with his extracurricular credits in public speaking and debate, maybe there would have been a spot for him--

Enjoy your leisure years. A part of him wanted to laugh, another wanted to tear the sheet apart and throw the scraps into the face of the robot custodians rolling up and down the aisles of the auditorium, ushering his stunned and confused fellow classmates (now in the former) slowly towards the exits.

This was it then: school was over, there was no career to have, and he would not see the majority of the people in this room-- people he had known almost his entire life, since he had been taken from his parents by the government to be placed here-- ever again.

The thought sent an arrow through the dark, sluggish fog wrapped around his brain, letting in a shock of unpleasantly bright light. His head snapped up from the paper in his hand and he looked out over the sea of heads, looking for the unruly mop of dark curls of--

"Philip! Phil, hey!" he heard from behind him, the unmistakeable voice of the person he'd been looking for: his brother Jon, one year his junior. Philip spun on his heel just in time for Jon to clap a hand on his upper arm, and the two dragged each other into a hard hug.

It was Jon that drew back first, looking into his brother's face with expectation and cautious optimism, but his expression dropped rapidly at what he saw. "No way," he breathed, shaking his head in disbelief, "Not _you_ , it can't be."

Philip tried for a reassuring smile, but it fell quite a few inches short. "Guess I shouldn't have relied on our folks after all, huh?" he asked in an attempt at a joke that sounded hollow in his ears. After all, it was true. The silence seemed to stretch for an eternity, neither knowing what to say.

"Move along, please," came the buzzing, inorganic voice of one of the robot custodians rolling up to his side, "The graduates are now moving outside to their assigned buses; move along, please--"

He had the urge to push the stupid thing over, but even being unemployed had to be better than being locked up as a dissident.

Jon swallowed hard, color drained from his usually vivid face, and he grabbed Philip sharply by the sleeve as though he'd seen exactly what his older brother had been thinking. (That was common: their mutual friends often commented on the seemingly shared wavelength between the two brothers, who had been each other's best friends since they were small children.) "Come on, Phil," he said in a low, warning tone, "I'll go out with you. They won't break us up until you have to get on that bus, so I've still got some time."

Philip relinquished with a rough sigh, running a hand back through his dark hair. Jon had always been the voice of reason between the two of them, and now was no exception. (The terrible thought lingered, who was going to do so now? He was not likely to ever see his brother again. Not only was Jon the voice of reason, he was the more practical of the two of them: where Philip had pursued more 'cerebral' activities after classes, Jon had decided to focus on machinery and robot technology-- there would always be a place for robot maintenance. And while the thought that Jon would have a job, and thus security in his life, was a relief… he would not fare so well.)

They let themselves be herded outwards with the rest of the students, both the graduates and the younger ones that would see the rest off, quiet amidst what had tapered off to uneasy murmuring. Small clusters split from the majority, throwing sympathetic looks over their shoulders-- the employed graduates, relieved that they had escaped the fate of the rest of the class.

"You listen to me, Jon," Philip finally said, grey eyes locked on the buses that they, the unemployeds, would soon be filling to be shunted off to their new living spaces, the Designated Areas. "You're going to be fine, so don't worry too much about me. You're going to get out of this, you hear me? You won't be here next year."

Jon laughed, a short, bitter sort of sound. "Don't worry about you? I've been doing that all my life, why would I stop now?" Philip chuckled in spite of himself, mirthlessly. Another long moment of silence passed, before the younger spoke up again, "You're going to be fine too. I mean, it's not like you're the first unemployed and you won't be the last. You're gonna figure something out. I've heard of unemployeds selling things they've made for extra credits, stuff like that… and people listen to you. You're going to be fine."

It sounded more like an order than a reassurance.

"Bus 23 is now boarding--" came a mechanical voice from somewhere in front of them, "The following please board bus number 23--" A list of names buzzed out, Philip's among them, and a slow, numb sort of shuffling took over the group as those called began to move towards the open door. Jon grabbed Philip around the shoulders and hugged him once more, an embrace that Philip returned fiercely.

"I love you," Jon said, voice strained against his shoulder, "Even if this is it and we don't see each other again, I love you. Thank you. For everything."

Philip swallowed roughly against the knot that he was surprised had formed in his throat, and he nodded a bit, closing his eyes tightly. "I love you too."

\-------

He was seated halfway back on the nearly-full bus, on the side opposite the school and the remaining crowd watching them go. Not that it much mattered-- the windows were so hazy from years of ingrained dirt that he wasn't convinced he'd be able to see any of them in the first place. Regardless, he did his best to look out through the one beside him, trying to look at the horizon and pointedly not thinking, ignoring the sickly hammering of his heart.

The seat underneath him shifted as someone sat beside him, and a pair of arms wrapped around one of his. Starting, Philip leaned off the window, and looked down at a full head of dark, tight ringlets. It was a distinctive hairstyle, one that belonged to a girl he had been close with off and on: Lillyanne, a friend, an occasional girlfriend-- either way, a familiar face. A familiar face that was desolate and wide-eyed with bone-deep fear, but tinged with the slightest bit of relief.

"I was so afraid there wouldn't be anyone I knew on this bus. Oh god, don't leave my side right now, Philip, please," she begged, pressing her face into his shoulder and shaking her head, "Tell me it's a nightmare or something. What are we going to do?"

He sighed, leaning his head briefly against hers, offering what little comfort he could. Lillyanne had always had the top marks in their class, but had never singled out a specialty-- a decision that had likely factored into her being beside him now. "We're going to adapt," he answered, "We're going to adapt and we're going to go on living. That's what we're going to do."

She sniffled, freeing one of her hands to come up and wipe at her teary brown eyes, her lips trembling a bit as she tried to compose herself. After a moment, she nodded her agreement.

The bus rattled to life, and Philip made it a point to not look back as it pulled out of the drive, and moved onto the highway. Closing his eyes, he said one last silent goodbye-- to his friends, to his brother, to his now-former life.

\--------

Several stops were made, at gates that looked completely identical to each other; a list of names was called at each. Each time, Lillyanne tensed beside Philip, and each time neither of their names came up, she sighed and leaned her head back to his shoulder. They were otherwise silent-- there wasn't much point to saying anything, Philip thought. What could he say? He was as in the dark as anyone was, there was no other reassurance he could offer. All he knew was the stories they'd all heard: the dingy milk-carton buildings crammed together into straight lines, the lack of travel passes, the tedium of attempts to fill one's long, fruitless days with something worth doing.

Jon had always joked that it didn't sound all that bad. No homework, and getting to sleep in as long as you like every day? There were worse things. That was one thing that he and Philip had never seen eye-to-eye on. Jon had always been good at being bored-- he'd always had the more vibrant imagination, if not the artistic vision to do much with it. Philip was almost the opposite: he had a certain amount of artistic skill, and very little direction to take it. He'd fashioned a few small sculptures from scrap wood that had been fairly well-received by his peers, but the most he had ever done with them was give them away as gifts. Perhaps he could sell them, but he wasn't sure of the protocol--

The bus had made another stop without him realizing it, and Lillyanne was now standing, still holding his arm, and looking somewhere between scared and relieved. Perhaps both.

"Philip, come on," she said with a small tremor in her voice, "Didn't you hear him call your name too?"

A bit stunned, he allowed himself to be tugged along with two others that had been called forward. Without even looking up, the man at the front of the bus that had called them stuffed a piece of paper into each of their hands and barked at them to hurry up.

So it was that four young adults, barely an hour out of their schooling (and, by extension, their childhoods) were standing on a desolate street corner, a fine rain coming down around them.

For a long time, no one said anything. Lillyanne occasionally shook the water from her ringlets in a self-conscious motion, glancing about nervously, and the other two-- Philip recognized them, though they hadn't been terribly close. The boy, tall and broad, was named Derek. He, as far as Philip remembered, had been an athlete, excelling at both track and contact sports. The girl, tall and broad herself, was Marcy. The only thing that Philip could remember her for was her beautiful operatic voice.

It was Derek who broke the silence, with a sudden belt of laughter that shocked the others enough to make them jump.

"This is ridiculous," he snorted, passing a hand back through his short hair and swiping it forward to send off a flurry of droplets, "We're all acting like the world's ended or something. Let's at least get out of the rain. The guy on the bus said something about a centre we're supposed to report to for housing and stuff, right?"

"Yeah, the paper gives directions," Marcy piped up, seeming to unfreeze a little once the proverbial ice had been broken, "There's a map, but I don't think it's too far. We should go together."

Lillyanne looked close to grateful tears. She thrust her hand out in the direction of the other two, and Marcy was the first to take it in a warm shake.

Something changed in the air as they all introduced themselves to each other. Philip could only think to describe it as the feeling of gears being set into motion.

\---------

As it turned out, the four of them had been assigned to the same makeshift dormitory. It was a shabby building, four stories tall, floors separated by gender. Philip suspected it may have once been a real dormitory for a real school, the school buildings long since demolished to make room for narrower, space-efficient ones.

(He had heard stories that schools used to be both less structured and more productive, putting out the employed at an astonishing rate, but he'd never quite been able to reconcile that notion with the world he knew. Of course, that was before the robots, so he assumed that before, people could afford the luxury.)

On his floor were two other boys that had immediately welcomed him: Kevin ("Just call me Kev," he'd insisted) and Todd, who had been here for two years already, each from different schools. Kev have been into mechanics, which had sent a dark throb of worry for Jon through Philip's brain, but he'd gone on to say that he'd never learned robotics. Todd, on the other hand, had not done much of anything. ("I knew the whole system was screwed up," he'd laughed, shrugging, "So I didn't see why I should worry about it.")

Beneath them by one floor was a small group of girls, all from one school, who had arrived one year prior. Marcy, being a naturally friendly person, had gotten close to them quickly and brought nervous Lillyanne along with her into the fold. There was Toni, a boisterous, clever girl who could see through problems like glass; Myn, a self-proclaimed poet; and Penelope, who hoarded scrounged dried herbs to boil into teas.

Often, the whole crowd of them would spend the night in one room, loathe to leave the comfort and security that a group afforded. The more experienced members of the group often warned against going outside after the sun had gone down, though Todd especially seemed to disregard this advice. Philip had been out a few times himself, often with either Kev, Derek or Marcy, but found the nightlife not exactly to his taste-- loud, raucous parties spilling out into the streets, mind-altering substances being passed around, fights breaking out over tiny infractions which brought the thought police swiftly out of the shadows. Exciting, to be certain, but he'd take a warm (if bare) room and a song written by Myn and sung by Toni any night.

Things could have been worse, Philip found himself thinking one such night, eyes closed as he leaned against the wall where he sat; he had a room to live in, and friends to fill it that were rapidly beginning to feel like a family. (Even Lillyanne-- a once on-and-off girlfriend-- felt different now, more like a sister.) They never had much money or food, but it was enough to get by on. If they were lucky enough to happen upon scrap bits of wood, he would carve them into trinkets and sell them by the train station for a little extra. There were occasional fights-- of course, it was a given considering their close living quarters and often boring days, but separate rooms helped, and they'd always cool off and apologize within a day or two. If it was the most that an unemployed life could afford-- it was good enough. He could be happy.

He _was_ happy.

\----------

Philip hadn't realized that an entire year had passed until there was a knock on his door, and when he opened it, his brother was standing there, looking like a lost little boy.

Stricken, he said nothing for several long seconds, then grabbed Jon by the shoulder and dragged him into his arms in a crushing embrace.

\----------

It was another three months before they heard about it. Jon and Kev (who had found an instant mutual kinship in their love of the workings of mechanical things) had come back from scrounging one day, talking about another group of unemployeds they had seen heading into the train station, loudly chatting about a game of some sort.

"No, I'm pretty sure that was the name of it, The Game," Jon said, "It sounded important like that."

"Who cares about games-- how did they go into the station without any trouble?" Lillyanne implored, "I thought we couldn't get travel passes. I thought that was something only employed people could do."

Kev laughed a bit, shaking his head. "Hey, that's all we know about it, it isn't like we followed them--" He'd reached out to pat Lillyanne on the head, as he often did as a sign of affection, but to his shock, she smacked his hand away and glowered.

"I'm not kidding around about this!" she said, "If unemployeds like them can get their hands on travel passes, why can't we?"

Kev seemed stunned silent, so Philip cleared his throat a bit awkwardly, picking up the slack. "We'll try to find out more about it, of course. I mean, it'd be great to be able to travel, right?"

"Right, yeah-- I mean, that's why we're here talking about it," Jon agreed, relief visible on his face as Lillyanne calmed down.

Later that night, Lillyanne came back to Philip and Jon's room, timid. "Look," she started, wringing her hands, "I already told Kev, but-- I'm sorry. For snapping at you earlier. I just-- don't you want to get out of here too? Even if just for a little while?"

Jon reached out, pulling her into a hug, which she returned. "Of course I do. We all do."

\----------

Leads led nowhere. No one saw the other group of unemployeds again, and no one else seemed to know what they were talking about when they asked about games in the area.

Everyone was moody, on edge. Fights started more easily, and took longer to cool down. It felt like something dangled down in front of them for one fleeting moment, only to be yanked away the second they'd picked up on a scent.

It felt dangerously like despair, and for the first time since arriving in the Designated Area, Philip began to dread living out the rest of his life like this. He imagined that it was the same for the rest of them.

\-----------

The envelopes arrived without much fanfare, slid under their doors by an unseen messenger. They gathered, breathless, carefully opening each as though they were made of priceless material rather than paper, and withdrew from each a flat token and a card with neat, gold-embossed script:

_You are cordially invited_  
 _to participate in The Game_  
 _Date: 15.9.2154_  
 _Time: 1600_  
 _Place: Barton Oaks_

A moment's reverent silence passed, before Derek gave a triumphant whooping shout that immediately overtook the rest of them, and they cheered and embraced, feeling impossibly light and giddy. Whatever it was, it was theirs, they were going to be part of it. 


End file.
